The moment Lucius stepped past the gilded doors, he took in the entire venue.
He stopped, inhaling deeply.
The air was scented with roses and multiple high cost perfumes.
The ceiling stretched forever, painted with a mural of the nation's founding.
Gold-trimmed pillars lined the walls, mirrors reflecting back an infinite repeat of wealth and power.
It was… perfect.
Too perfect.
Slow, elegant music flowed from a live orchestra set in the corner, each note threading through the room like silk.
Couples glided across the polished dance floor, dresses twirling, suits gleaming.
It was the kind of place Lucius would have scoffed at in his old world.
It was one of British parties.
The kind of party he'd only seen in movies, where multiple wealthy people would show off everything they had.
Now, he was walking right into the middle of it.
He adjusted his cufflinks, more to give his hands something to do than out of actual necessity.
